


Quiet

by TVBS



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Creepy, F/M, inspired by Silent Hill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-27 12:03:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5047759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TVBS/pseuds/TVBS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He can’t remember anything before the quiet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing says "Happy Halloween" like a story inspired by Silent Hill.

He can’t remember anything before the quiet.

It filled his ears after a while. Everything was so silent: the streets, his footsteps, even the way he breathed and his own heartbeat. He feared for a moment that he was dead until he pressed two fingers to his wrist. The reassuring thump against his skin told him everything was fine, giving him something else to worry about.

That being how alone he was. It didn’t occur to him at first, as he walked around the open streets, just how empty they were. It should have; the streets were never this deserted, even during the darkest hour of the night. But as he walked, steps muffled against the pavement, it hit him how alone he was. How there was not even a single car even parked against the street.

Streetlamps flickered on, the yellow light filtering through the damp haze. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the water beading on the strands. There was nowhere for him to really go. He could enter one of the buildings, but even now he could hear no one inside. No one livening up a bar, no snooty hipsters wandering out of Starbucks. There would be no reason to go in other than to get out of the fog. It wasn’t exactly a bad plan.

At the same time, the buildings loomed uneasily above him. Something was in there, his gut told him. Something bad. He felt his heart pick up, but couldn’t hear it pounding in his ears as he walked towards the river. The dark wide streak of water below him was almost calming as he leaned against the railing, turning his head away from the empty glitz of the buildings to the dead glitter of business and hotels. He looked back over the river, pushing away when the gaping maw of the water stretched even wider and wider.

There was no reason to go further away from the lights. He made his way back, shoulders itching as he left the silent river behind. The buildings seemed even closer now, almost touching him as he walked down the sidewalk. But they weren’t as they still sat happily as far as they usually do. Something did change when he left, though. He could feel it. He could tell as he walked towards the center, feeling the difference in the air.

Like there was always something just right behind him, even when he whipped around to confront it and it was missing.

Like with each step, there was something behind him taking a step at the same time, reaching out for him.

He watched his shadow as he passed under a light, trying to use that as a gauge for if something was behind him. Only his shadow passed next to him, but the tension in his gut didn’t ease. It was silly. He should know after that everything was okay. Nothing had changed and it was all in his mind. But it didn’t help. With every lamp, he checked his shadow, expecting to see something reaching out for him. Nothing did, though.

Breath blew next to his ear, a whisper of air without sound.

He turned, one fist up and ready to strike at the absolute nothing behind him.

A sigh, soundless against his cheek.

He broke into a run, wrenching a door to a building open and slamming it behind him. His legs took him away from the door, shaking as he gulped, the feeling silent in his ears. The expectation to hear something pound against the door filled him as he watched it. Adrenaline buzzed through his veins as he watched the door.

That door wasn’t opening any time soon. He wasn’t going to open it. Instead, he walked up the stairs, looking for anything else around. Anything that told him that it wasn’t as empty, as abandoned as he feared it was.

Nothing assuaged that fear. Everything remained as still, as quiet as before.

As he sat down, a flash of red entered his memory. Hair. Attached to a brash laugh and a foul mouth. His heart swelled at the memory as he looked down at his hands, seeing the band around his left ring finger. It had something to do with that hair, that thought. But it was gone, and he couldn’t remember why that strip of metal around his finger was so important. Why it meant so much to him, why his heart burst with love at the sight, and why he kept the ring there as he stood back up.

It felt safe to go back outside. He made his way back out, rubbing his arms, over the ink decorating the pale skin. Being out of the fog had cooled him down a bit. But now he was back into it, having the moisture coat his skin and mat his hair. He looked around, and considered a direction. It was empty, silent any way he went. It didn’t matter.

In the end, he picked a direction and walked down the quiet road, hoping to find answers, hoping there were answers to find.


	2. Chapter 2

He stopped in front of a building.

It was familiar. He didn’t know why, just that it was. That alone told him he had to go inside of it. Something was in there he wanted. He walked across the gravelly parking lot to the front door, pulling on it to realize it was locked. There didn’t seem to be a key on him, either. He walked around the building, squinting a little in the foggy haze as dim light illuminated another door on its side. This one, this one was open when he pulled on it.

Not much was on when he entered. He stood for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the new light. But what he could see was interesting... props? Sets? He started walking, carefully making his way past them. There were some offices too... maybe one of the computers would have something. He twitched the mouse of one of them, lip lifting when it didn’t wake up. A quick check proved that no power wasn’t even going to it. It wasn’t worth it to keep trying, so he moved further into the building.

Then he stopped. He saw something.

And it went that way.

He took several steps towards the motion, mouth half open to say something and reaching out before his hand hit a wall. Shaking his fingers out, he patted the wall for a bit because something didn’t seem quite right. Something was wrong here. A different texture to the wall- a door frame. So that would be a door knob here- and yes. This was a whole new room. His fingers scraped along the wall before finding a light switch, flipping it.

Nothing came on. He should have expected that. With a sigh, he went to close it again, then paused as he saw a flash of light from behind something. He walked forward, watching the light roll to and fro. Carefully, he made his way to the shadows, foot hitting something that caused them to jump and the light to roll another way. He bent down, moving the object out of the way and picked up the flashlight, flicking it around the room and taking in the emptiness.

Get out of there. His instincts screamed at him as he turned away, near running for the door with the flashlight in his hand. Get out of there, don’t get stuck in there, don’t- His hand hit the door, feeling smooth wood. The beam showed a featureless door, melding perfectly with the wall in front of it. He swallowed, turning around. What was in here? It was an empty room, except for that one object and the flashlight. He took a quick walk around the room, noticing another room hooked onto it, just as empty. Then he went back, the empty silence deafening his ears.

The object in the middle of the floor. The one that had hid the flashlight. What was it?

He shone his light on it, the stretch of the shadows nightmarish as he stepped forward. It was a foam sword, the dark play of shadow warping the innocence of its pixelated art style. The way it worked made it look like it had been moved to something wet, sticky, oozing black slick coming straight for him-! He backed up, hitting the useless door. Fingers scratched for the knob as his flashlight kept track of the black reaching for him, opening wider and wider as his fist slammed into the wood until he turned around, kicking at it and forcing it to fly open in a shower of splinters.

When he turned back around, not even the foam sword remained.


	3. Chapter 3

He sat on the stairs.

There wasn't much he would do here. But he couldn't really leave. He knew something here. He hadn't found it yet.

When he looked around, he didn't find much. The building was abandoned. One interesting thing he found was a set. Something told him it was pretty harmless, merely a curiosity. But it was something he wanted to check out. What was this? Why would there be dusty cameras pointed at a staging area where several chairs and a couch were? He ran a hand across one arm of the couch, watching how dust swirled and played through the beam of his flashlight in its wake. There was no reason behind any of it. He should probably just go, see if there was anything else that told him why he was in such an empty, silent town.

He looked down at his fingertips, shining the flashlight over the filth smeared across the pads. Dust, everywhere in a place not that old, in a place too familiar to him. In a place he couldn't remember. He shook his head, inhaling deeply as he made his way around the building. Something made his shoulders itch, made him want to find a weapon. He had a flashlight, but that would just bring that thing after him, wouldn't it? He had to have some way to protect himself. But how? A pretty simple way would most likely be to break a plank of wood off a pallet or find a hammer or crowbar. In fact, now that he thought about it, he had seen a hammer, didn't he? Yeah. He turned back around, hurrying past the gaping wound of the broken door. No, time to keep going.

The hammer was in the rough location he remembered it. Good. He picked it up, testing its weight. Maybe not good for more than a few blows, but more than enough for him to get away and find a real weapon. And who knows? Maybe he'd find a rocket launcher. Something to scream its banshee cry through the night and break this silence. He hooked the hammer in his belt loops, hand hovering over it as he made his way through the building.

No, it really was time to leave. Nothing was here.

But as he did, something turned his feet in a different direction, his fingers unlocking the front door. He took a few steps back out into the haze, skin instantly prickling at the damp against it, and looked around as he raised his flashlight. Where to now? He had to go somewhere. His feet took him a little further down, to another familiar building one down, and he tested the front door of that building, smirking as that one swung open without any hesitation.

Now he was in another building that was familiar. Where was he? He looked around, trying to get his bearings. Well, he had to try somewhere... what? He squinted as he tried to figure out what his flashlight was illuminating. He couldn't quite be... sure. What was it? He followed it, pulling the hammer out as he went.

Then suddenly he stumbled, the hammer flying out of his grasp and landing with a wet plop. He looked up, seeing only the head peeking out of a bucket of wet nameless glop. With an eyeroll, he grabbed the hammer, and yanked.

The hammer yanked back, pulling him down. The sudden force drug his head under the surface, the scent of iron filling his nose, making him wrench his entire body backwards. Somehow, he managed to keep a hold of the hammer, but something was in his eyes. He rubbed at them, trying to clear whatever he had his head thrust into. The flashlight had dropped when that happened, and he scooped it up when he could see again, looking around frantically.

Everything had changed. Blood, decay, rust...

Nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention I'm a Silent Hill fan? Because I'm a Silent Hill fan.


	4. Chapter 4

He looked around the room.

The sudden change from abandoned to decayed unsettled him. He swung his flashlight around, tracking the beam of light over the fallen beams, exposed metal liberally covered in rust, and the thick covering of blood. With a sudden motion, he turned his face to his hand, looking at the slick dark red smear from what he had wiped off his face. He stood slowly, turning around as he gripped the hammer tighter. One foot absently kicked the bucket of filth, causing it to tip over and spread across the floor in a sickening bouquet of iron and rot. A gag bubbled up in his throat as held one arm to his face as he backed away.

It was definitely time to leave. There was nothing else here for him. He turned to leave, then paused as he took a step. The metal structure laid twisted before him, in a way that was almost unrecognizable, but at the same time he almost could figure out what it was. He ran a hand across the lines, knowing he had seen this before. But he didn’t know where. Fingers danced along the sharp edge, curving down a wheel before he drew his hand back, turning to leave.

The fog had lifted now, but in its wake was now a darkness the flashlight barely penetrated. He rolled his eyes, rubbing above one eye with his wrist as annoyance filled him. What was going on? At least nothing else seemed to have changed. He could see make his way out to the parking lot without problems.

And then another strange metal structure. This one was more warped than the other, warping around a point in the front. He walked around it, feeling uneasy as he saw the way the front had been shoved inward. With a shudder, he turned away, walking down the street.

More of the structures now littered the street. Some of them reached for the sky, sitting on their haunches as if howling for a moon that wouldn’t listen. Some hunkered in, a mass of iron unrecognizable. Many twisted around single points of impact, leaving him with a bitter taste in his throat.

Through the entire time, he felt something watching him. The hammer never left his hand, but he could never find anything in the darkness. He thought he could see it hiding as he turned the flashlight on it, but he still couldn’t see a thing. As he searched the area around him, he nearly ran into another structure, taking a deep breath as annoyance lined with adrenaline filled him.

This one...

This one.

Was covered in blood.

It was covered in blood, liberally dumped over the front of it. The entire left side of it crumpled in, making him suddenly gag. Something wasn’t right about it. He backed away from the twisted metal, his stomach twisting hard. He needed to get out of there. He needed to go.

He turned away, starting to walk faster down the street. All the other ones, he ignored. They were just... weird. He had to ignore them. He had to...

By the end of the street, he was running, not knowing if he knew where he was going.


	5. Chapter 5

He stopped.

Breath rasped hard in his throat as he doubled over, resting his fists against his knees. He didn't know how far he had run. Just that he had run. And now he was somewhere new. Slowly, he swung the flashlight around as he gulped down air, wincing as he saw even more twisted sculptures twining their metal limbs around each other. They were getting sharper and sharper, twisting around a single point consistently on the left side. He watched as a dark slick beat a rhythm against a flat vertical panel inside of one, the fluid dripping onto a growing puddle on the ground. Clumps of something looked embedded in the joints between the panel and the side, a fiber covered in the liquid. He came closer, shining the light on the shiny clump as he tried to figure out what it was.

Strands of something. Long. Matted with the liquid. He touched it, then inspected the red stain on his fingertips before wiping them off on his shirt. Curious, he leaned in closer, trying to figure out what that fibers were. His beam shone upward, seeing a lump of something else.

Flesh.

It was hair. He backed away, arm to his mouth as he coughed. That was someone's scalp and hair, smeared in blood. He tracked his light over the rest of the structure, seeing the streak of darkness across the inside left panel of it. All of this told him he needed to back away, to leave, but at the same time, he couldn't. He didn't remember a single thing before the quiet, but this told him a story. That maybe there was something before all of it, and he just needed to put it together. He walked around the front of it to the right side, shining his light down through an opening to see if there was anything else, when he saw a glint.

Curious, he patted the panel, finding a handle and pulling on it. The hinges groaned and squealed as he yanked it open, then the entire thing dropped to the ground next to him. Before him was another structure like the other side, two flat panels perpendicular to each other, and like the other, it was splattered with blood. But on the floor was something interesting. Something that glinted clean in this rusted bloody world. He picked it up gingerly, flipping it over to reveal the cracked screen of a phone. He clicked the home button, watching it light up and unlock with his touch. As he flipped through the screens, he frowned.

He knew this phone. He knew who this belonged to.

Didn't he?

He shook his head as he pocketed the phone, backing away from the structure. Something about it was so familiar. He should know what it was. He had seen it before. So many times. It should have been imprinted on his memory.

... what had happened to him? Why couldn't he remember anything? Why did he feel like someone was watching him? Why couldn't he hear anything?

It had to do with this thing. All of it came down to it. This thing, and this phone. He pulled out the phone again, pulling up the camera app and aiming it at the structure. Like this, he could almost see what it was at one point. He frowned as he lowered the phone a little, staring at the twisted metal, then around at where they were. Slowly, he raised the camera again, and took the picture. The new picture went to the album as taken, nothing new about it. He closed his eyes, not sure what he expected. His thumb went to go hit the home button again, but by accident swiped to the previous picture in the album.

She was pretty. Red hair, a wide smile... he found himself smiling as well at the candid shot of this woman, the phone clacking against his ring. His thumb swiped again, and he saw another picture of her in the middle of a laugh. He could almost hear her laugh, a brash outcry that demanded a similar response. There were others, but she dominated the album, a testament to deep feelings between them. He stopped on one with her looking at him from the driver's seat of a car, her lips stretched in a fond smile and sunglasses covering her eyes. The phone suddenly shut off, leaving him shaken as he pocketed the phone and looked at the structure, dark blood running down the seats.

He felt his head, the right side of his hair matted with the blood it had been dunked into. He knew. He remembered how she had smiled at him before they had left, how they had joked, the screech, the crunch, the pain and her blood and his blood and how the scream built in his throat and came out now, shattering the quiet in a single distressed word he didn't know he could still say, still use due to the way his head had hit the window-

"LINDSAY!"


	6. Chapter 6

Michael remembered.

What good it did him, he didn't know. But as his scream split the quiet with violent force, he remembered everything. He looked around, shining his flashlight at the empty streets, then back at the twisted metal. Slowly, he backed away, back into the darkness. The beam of light still barely penetrated the blanket of black, but he didn't care. It wasn't like it mattered anymore. He remembered what had happened, and now there was no going back. He couldn't go back to how it used to be, no matter what he wanted to do. All he could do now was walk.

A pretty fucking horrible life now. His lip quirked at the mental spew of profanity, the first since waking up in the quiet. Even now, everything was still so silent. His footsteps didn't make much of a sound, but that should make sense. He couldn't hear his breath in his ears, or his heartbeat. Everything was just... quiet. Waiting for him to make a decision he didn't know he had to make. But he didn't know what had happened until now, did he? What could he have done? He touched his head, feeling the blood against his fingers. He had wanted to forget, to wander in bliss of a world where he didn't hear the squeal of metal and crunch of glass, where he didn't see her face in fear before his vision blacked out. But he also wanted to remember it, didn't he? That was why all of this happened.

He stopped, taking a deep breath. The one cry of her name was all he could say. No more words could come from his lips. Oh, but how he wanted to talk. How he wanted to curse, to shout, to scream. But he knew he wouldn't ever be able to talk again.

What kind of life was he to have? He knew why he felt something watching him, something over him, someone taking care of him while he wandered naively through a world of his own making, in silence while life went on in a sterile room around him. That's where he could be, if he wanted to. If he wanted to, he could start making a fuss. Make noise in this noiseless world, create a cacophony within his own head that forced his eyes open and out of this cushioning world of silence and memories. He clicked his flashlight off, the darkness grabbing ahold of him. That was a choice... or he could stay here in this darkness. Feel the world around him breathe and live, unable to watch it. Unable to hear it. Unable to interact with it in any way.

It wasn't a life.

He wasn't even sure if he could create any noise now. It had been so long since he had walked in silence. The door had created sound, but just when opening it. Dropping it had not. Just the sound that he heard when it curled in around him. He had screamed, the last word he had said before entering the silence. But now, could he break the silence for real? Could he say something new, curse like he used to? He bent down, tapping the flashlight against the ground, feeling the impact against his hand but not hearing a thing. That wasn't something he had heard then. It wasn't something that would break the silence.

It wasn't that he wanted to give up. But as he thought about it... as he tried to make his voice work as his lips formed familiar words and vulgar phrases... he knew it wasn't something he could do. He had heard all he could. All that was left was the silence. The quiet.

The time of the quiet.

He clicked his flashlight back on, noticing that the streets looked much nicer now as he walked. But that was just normal, wasn't it? Now he was just in a normal recreation of Austin. He looked around, then up at the lights in the distance. Houses. They were... he was close to his house. He started walking faster, clicking off his light as he passed under a streetlight. Steps sped up into a run as he moved down the streets, wanting to see his house again. Wanting to have something familiar that he knew was familiar. Something good for him. He skidded to a stop in front of his door, palm against the doorframe. There could be a number of things in there. It could be deserted. It could look normal. It could look like a twisted hell trying to eat him. Or it could have a monster born from the depths of his brain. But he needed to go in there.

There would be no going back if he did. He knew that. If he entered that house, no matter what was in there, he had to live with it.

But he wanted that. He couldn't make any noise, and he couldn't live in that silence. Whatever was in the house, he could deal with.

Michael opened the door.

And smiled at who was behind it, closing the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Michael got the Heaven ending.
> 
> Well. Happy Halloween and thank you all for reading this! So much love to everyone that read this. Have a great Halloween, everyone!


End file.
